


Could have should have

by calibriluu



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, F/F, a little self-harm, more tags as the story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-17 02:42:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12355800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calibriluu/pseuds/calibriluu
Summary: Helene and Marya suffer throughout the years. Drama ensues.





	1. The Letter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thepinballer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepinballer/gifts).



> I decided to write a bit of angst for this, and as usual, pointing out mistakes and making suggestions is EXTREMELY helpful. Like, you have no idea how much they improve my self-indulgent shit.

She read the words over and over again. Her breathing becomes quicker, more frantic every time her eyes pass over the words.

_My father had found a 'suitable' man for me to wed. He is a tall and stoic figure, evidently from a wealthy family. He's not quite the man I would love, but it could be worse. I hope that you can come back in time for the wedding. Oh how I wish you were in Moscow._

_The wedding, the wedding_. It echoes in Helene's mind as she fights back tears in her room in St. Petersburg. Too far from Marya, too far from the girl in which she contains a forbidden love for. 

The letter quivers in her hands, sobs escaping her throat. She feels raw with anger and grief, anger at Marya's father and at herself for not confessing her love soon enough. She feels the grief that she has lost the chance, lost the chance of ever admitting her affections without severe consequences.

Helene throws the letter onto the floor and collapses onto her bed, burying her face into a pillow. Her head screams, trying to process the words. The letter. Confusion and regret bubbles in her chest. _Why did she have to marry? Why must I have to fall for the person farthest from my reach? Why am I cursed like this? Why why why?_

She hasn't cried in a long time. Not since Anatole was born, not since her mother died, not since her father had finally lost his sanity.

After all the things that have happened to her, Helene should be strong. Should not cry over lost love, especially one like this. She's faced it before.

But with Marya Dmitriyevna, it was, it was _different_.

They'd met at one of the Kuragin balls, with Helene being tailed by many handsome, swaggering men who thought they could get a hand at the alluring Elena Kuragina. She played with them for a little while but was not at all interested in them.

She was interested in the bored looking Akhrosimova standing in the corner.

 _"I rather find it quite displeasing to see such a charming guest disinterested, out of all places, here," Helene said, sauntering over to her._ She remembered that Marya had rolled her eyes, but the hint of a smile was there.

_"I'm sorry, was I being a bit rude?" she asked, panicking a little._

_"No no no. Come with me, we should dance." Without waiting for a reply, Helene tugged her towards the center of the room._

Helene wasn't exactly sure why she said that, but after a while of spinning around, the ball ended earlier than usual.

Both of them were red in the face, and Helene cheerfully hugged her goodbye, who bashfully hugged back as well.

Anatole later commented on her strangely happy demeanor, Helene waving off any suspicions he had.

Time went on, and they actually met quite often despite the each family disliking the other.

The two sneaked out to lay below the night sky, with Marya sarcastically correcting Helene every time the latter said the wrong name for the wrong constellation. Helene loved seeing her frustrated face dimly lit by the stars.

Helene could not forget the evening Marya had gone to a bar with her ( her first time too! ) and ended up dragging Marya out because she'd drank too much and nearly got into a fight with one of the patrons.

She didn't recall a single time where she was so invested in another person but Anatole and herself.

Every single time Marya spoke, her voice rang in Helene's ears and it was the only thing she would think about for hours at a time. She adored the way she dressed, the way she acted, the way she treated Helene like an actual human being.

One day Marya asked her why Helene was so benevolent to her compared to others. Flushing crimson, Helene murmured that Marya was, indeed, _very_ different from everyone else.

Now, Helene was stuck in her room, not bothering to clean the messy makeup on her face. Another pang struck Helene's heart as she realized that even _if_ her suspicions that Marya did like women ( it wasn't hard for her to make such a conclusion ), she would be disgusted, disgusted that with the reputation Helene had that she would ever fall for someone of Marya's level.

 _Marya is too good for, you slut, too good for you toogoodforyou toogoodforyou_ Helene cried to herself, biting down so hard that her lips had started to bleed. The only way she knew was the taste of copper flooding her senses.

Helene tumbled out of her bed to snatch the letter from the floor, reading one last time before cursing to eternal damnation. In an act of fury, she madly shredded the paper, accidentally cut the tips of her fingers in the process. She didn't bother with them; instead the stinging distracted her from the thought of Marya. Anything to think of something else, something else other than those words.

Oddly calm after doing so, Helene Kuragina did something quite stupid.

She flew over to the stained glass window that depicted a dazzling women in an equally dazzling dress, and prompt slammed it open with her hands, shattering the glass that hit the stone walls on side. A blast of chilly air invaded her room.

Desperately, Helene swiftly gathered up the torn letter and threw it out the window, a breeze carrying off most of the bits while others fell onto the ground. Shivering hands kept tossing out paper until there was none left.

Now, there was no trace of the message and no trace of anyone involving it, or at least that was what Helene liked to think. Her throat hurt, her face hurt too much to cry or say anything without gasping horrendously.

Helene clasped her hands together and placed her elbows on the edge of the window, running her tongue over her now sore lip.

Despite her fatigue, Helene continued to stare with glassy eyes out into the distance, allowing the cold to numb her bones.

Moscow seemed so far away now.


	2. The Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helene attends the wedding. (sort of)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woah, I actually kept my promise and decided to update.

The wedding ceremony passes in a blur, with Helene sitting in front of the pews. Her face is stone, blankly staring at the couple.

Helene thinks of the whispers behind her, the people that uttered how the young queen of society would show up at a rival's wedding. The Kuraginas were distrusted by many families, including Marya's.

After the wedding vows and binding of the marriage, they quickly proceed to the party, the Russian way. 

She watches from afar as the newly-weds take each other to dance, the people around them throwing grains and candies at them, supposedly for a good marriage. When the dance ends, the men and women shout to another toast and Helene gulps down another glass of vodka, enjoying the burn of expensive alcohol.

Helene struggles to focus on them as they are crowned, as most wealthy Russian newly-weds are. The cheers roar in her ears as she tries to ignore the glowing happiness from those around her who don't realize that Marya was indeed forced into this, or so Helene had read from the letter.

It is ironic, Helene thinks, that they were in opposite positions than when the first time they had met. Marya was the center of attention while Helene drank her depression away like an alcoholic.

Trembling with bitterness, Helene marches away from reception when the Tamada was now casually strolling around, whispering things in people's ears.

No one noticed her slipping away, because no one cared for a Kuragin at the time.

Except perhaps Marya Dmitriyevna. She had excused herself from the festivities to take a 'break', much to her relatives' chagrin. 

Helene sat down on the bathroom tiles, unable to hold back tears any longer. She saw Marya with someone else, and it is something she could not fathom. Her heart cracks a little more, like the broken window back in St. Petersburg.

Her chest tightened, a feeling of pain spreading throughout her, She can't, she _can't_ bear looking at Marya who seems as if she really does love her new husband. It just horrifies her that someone as sweet as Marya would be forced into a marriage, one that she didn't consent to nor want. At least in the first place.

She shut her eyes, trying to hold the sobs back. Her hand roughly yanked at her hair, messing up the bun and headdress.

Hands clenching, Helene tensed as she heard the clicking of heels echo outside the bathroom. She froze, thinking that if someone walked in, she would be shamed to eternity and no one would look at Helene Kuragina the same again.

Kuragins do not cry.

Before she could straighten herself up and get back to the ballroom, the doorknob turned. Helene had evidently forgotten to lock it.

A gasp erupted from the door way and Marya had been met with the sight of a red eyed Helene, her hair a mess and shivering on the chilly tiles.

"H-h-Helene? Are you alright? Did someone hurt you?" Marya's dress prohibited her from crouching down all the way, instead opting to completely sit down next to her.

"Please Helene, you can leave if you're not feeling well. Or if someone harmed you, I can hunt them down myself. Oh, please say something," she murmured, taking Helene's hands into hers. Helene felt a warmth blossom in her chest, and tried to ignore the pang of sadness that Marya would never accept her.

"I'm sorry," she blurts out. Helene clutches her dress anxiously.

"For what? Why have you been acting so strangely lately? I thought you would have been happy for me, but instead you've been so miserable since you came back. You cannot bottle everything up Elena, that's exactly what you've told me before. And I trusted you enough to tell you certain things, so why are you so afraid right now?"

Marya has moved a little too close to Helene. She can feel her warm breath touch her forehead. _She should be out there, enjoying herself before everything goes downhill, but Marya is here, because she keeps seeing me like this. Why can't you act like a decent person Helene? Why do you have so many problems? Why?!_

"I, I-I can't say. You would hate me for it."

"It doesn't matter, you don't deserve to be hated. When have I ever disliked you for anything?" Hearing those words made Helene fall into a deeper pit of despair, proving even more that Marya was too good for her.

"I, l-love you." Her voice audibly cracked. Of all the things she could have said, and the puzzled expression of Marya's face made everything worse.

"That's it? Well, I love you too Helene. You are, you are very dear to me. Do not doubt that, and if that is all you have to say-"

"Not like that," Helene mumbled and she wanted to tear her jaw off now.

"I don't understand, what other ways could you possibly..." Her eyes widened and Marya froze, the silence bearing down in the small room.

"Helene? Helene?" she said as she slowly stood up. Helene knew that she was disgusted, but was simply not showing it for Helene's sake.

"Marya?" Helene croaked, tears drying on her face.

"I, I have to go back and entertain the guests. They should be suspicious now, if not later. There's a backdoor near red tapestry, you know where it is," a blank voice spoke before Marya disappeared.

Helene didn't even bother to ask Marya to stay.

Left alone in darkness and an empty bottle of wine, Helene brought her head up from the uncomfortable position and listened to the door creak.

It was unbearable now to be in the presence of Marya's home. She felt like an intruder, and the Akhrosimovas did not welcome intruders.

Yanking a cloth from the cabinet she was leaning against, Helene ran it across her face to wipe away the mess that had accumulated.

A mess, a horrible mess that she had gotten herself into. The alcohol made her feel woozy and if one had walked in on Helene, she would have appeared to have walked through a snowstorm.

Helene pulled herself up and with a pounding heart, stumbled towards the backdoor she had used countless times before she and Anatole left for St. Petersburg.

The heartbroken woman left, with cold piercing her bare skin and left without a trace.

 

 

Marya Dmitrievna had forced herself to dance with husband and it seemed as if everything were fine, as if the newly wed had merely taken a quick break only to come back more festive.

She was twirled by the taller man, trying to ignoring the sting and bubble of emotions rising inside of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos are appreciated! Also, comments bless my soul. hmu on tumblr @thesselsewhere if you want to ask me anything, or maybe even a request? Up to you dearie ;)


	3. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A LITTLE filler chapter from Marya's perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow look at me I updated

Marya has been without a spouse for many years.

She was constantly struck with loneliness, the walls of the manor hardly comforting her. Marya’s husband had been tragically shot in the head in battle only 2 years after they had wed.

It left her without a child, no family to raise and no one to take care of but herself.

Men had tried to pursue her, for they knew the advantages of marrying into the Akhrosimovs but ultimately failed.

When she received the letter that her husband had been killed, she looked to no one for comfort.

Marya allowed not a soul to pity her, and from then on established a fierce reputation that only independent women could.

Even the Kuragins didn’t bother as much when she went out to drink.

Especially Helene.

Marya never had a friend as close as Helene was after the funeral. She was often confined to her home and even when she ventured out, most gave her a respective space.

Perhaps Marya had changed too much or maybe didn’t change enough.

She barely recalled what happened that night, could only make out Helene’s sobbing and endless dancing and drinking.

Too scared to remember what her dear friend said, cried even.

Marya could hardly believe in love anymore. She was an older women, respected and feared by the people of Moscow. None approached to become any real friend of hers.

No, it was actually one thing she would never, ever admit to a soul.

She was afraid of love.

In her heart, she held, well, an affection for someone. It wasn’t any of her goddaughters who were staying with her.

God she loved those two, Natasha even more than Sonya.

But it was forbidden by society, even as one as free-thinking as Moscow.

Why did it always come down to Elena Kuragin, the most charming and beautiful woman in Russia? Not to mention one with a reputation for sleeping around.

Sonya and Natasha had been a delightful distraction to her otherwise monotone life.

It drove the lingering thoughts away, drove her to explore more of the city and find things she had never found. All the while admonishing them to avoid the Kuragins and Fedya Dolokhov, even if the latter was a very popular figure in Moscow.

Even more so with the ladies.

Elena was lady, and so was Marya. Oh how she sometimes wished fate would be kinder and let her be a man, but then again her family would never approve of such a marriage with any Kuragin.

Tonight however, brought back the worries of meeting with Helene. She could see the alluring, brown eyes that seemingly sparkled at Marya when they used to talk. The confident swish of her dress, her neck full of pearls and a very revealing dress. A lovely voice that made all, no matter if they were man or woman, easily fall for her.

The way she treated Marya, how she made it seem as if she were special. As if Helene had a reserved place for Marya in her mind. _She_ certainly did. Overflowing flattery that made her eye-roll and blush at the same, the feel of breath on her ears as Helene whispered all of Russia's gossip and banter.

How Helene acted as if there was more than a fierce, quiet girl there. 

God, any thought of Helene made Marya sink deeper into despair. It was horrible, being away from her. But it grew numb eventually, barely keeping herself from running over to her home. Poised and sensible, Marya made herself over the years.

The fact that she and her goddaughters were attending the opera ( or as Marya had come to call it, the ‘gossip house' ) made it even more likely she would catch a glimpse of Helene.

A servant gently knocked on the door, nearly startling her as she studied herself in the mirror.

"The ladies are ready to go, ma'am."

"Tell to quietly wait in the hall while I get down there."

"Yes ma'am."

Marya lifted up a bit of her skirts, walking down the stairs and having the door opened by their servant. Their troika was ready for them, and in hushed tones the girls murmured to each other excitedly.

Despite the cold infiltrating the vehicle, her hands started to become clammy. They were already at the opera house.

After an overt introduction of special guests and new gossip, they found their seats, fairly close to the stage.

A booming voice cooled the chattering as two blinding figures strolled through the double doors. Head swiveled and people started talking in hushed tones.

The flash of a Parisian dress and exposed neck immediately caught her attention. Her perfectly curled hair and string of pearls sent shivers up her spine.

It was just as Marya had feared ( and secretly hoped for ) the entire time.

Elena Kuragina was here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments bless my soul. =D
> 
>  
> 
> ( don't worry, other chapters should be longer than this! )


	4. The Opera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marya has her own crisis in the opera. Beware the foreshadowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I saw a post that discouraged Helene/Marya shipping because Helene is way younger than Marya is canonically? And I want to clarify that Marya is in her mid-thirties here? Nothing about my Helene/Marya fics are anywhere near canon, so if you even think it's bothering you just comment if it does. MARYA ISN'T SOME OLD LADY HERE, ALRIGHT? psa is over

From outside the theater, the faint sound of the opera echoed in the desolate hallway. 

Marya had gone into the lobby, trying to gather her thoughts.

Everything was too much.

Who would ever know that the simplest of glances from Helene could throw off the Dragon of Moscow.

On top of that, her own goddaughter, Natasha ( oh why was it her of all people? ), had wandered off to go speak with Helene and came back with a blushing face. All the better, she was even waving and blowing kisses in their direction.

She made eye contact with Marya, blowing one more kiss at her specifically and strolling back to her seats.

Which were also fairly close to theirs.

Marya tried to admonish them, to stay far away from that woman. It was completely ineffective, since Helene was constantly leaning over her and Natasha's shoulders for the first quarter.

She even caught a few whispered conversations between the two, giggling ringing in her ears throughout the first act.

Sonya had stopped picking her nails out of boredom and shot odd glances in Marya's direction.

 _What is happening?_ she mouthed.

 _Absolutely nothing, let's pay attention to the opera_ , Marya silently said. She didn't want Sonya to get distracted by Helene either, gritting her teeth as she prayed Helene would move to another seat. 

Sonya looked confused for a moment and seeing Marya's glare made her snap her head back to the stage.

She hated this with every inch of her heart. The fact that Helene was _much_ too close to her and the need to press a kiss on her lips was growing with every second, not to mention how her family and other important people would react to such an unnatural thing. 

Well, it wasn't unnatural for Marya.

Why was she so weak for Helene after all these years? Why did she still remember the kindness she was shown during a time of youth and ignorance of the outside world? _Would Elena even remember the things she did to a naïve girl like she once was?_

But she wasn't stupid. She saw the looks that Helene gave her, the little mannerisms that she exhibited in her presence. The gentle embraces and blushing cheeks.

The empty look on her face when she came to Marya's wedding. 

Her eyes suddenly flew open, clutching the long skirt she was wearing. What did Helene say that night? What did _Marya_ say that night?

Sometimes she regretted drinking that evening. Sometimes she didn't. Yet, Helene had said it that night.

That she loved her.

However, Helene could have been mistaken. She could have been, but then why had her own heart been pounding in her ears? Why should a friend's love leave Helene half-drunk in a dark bathroom.

And Marya dismissed her, told her to leave through the back door that they'd used on many occasions.

The horrifying realizations were coming to her, perhaps triggered by seeing Helene once more.

The Kuragins have seldom shown generosity, preferring to stay slightly aloof to society all the while carrying a charmers' reputation.

Helene was no different. Or perhaps Marya was just a flirtation to her, a test before wooing real men.

A sudden slam of double doors opening pulled Marya Dmitrievna out of her chain of thoughts, seeing a flash of green and silver through the corner of her vision.

The jangle of spurs rung in the empty hallway and she grimaced, gritting her teeth as Marya watched Anatole Kuragin walk right into the theater in the middle of the act.

The sudden urge to get back to her goddaughters came, for a good reason. Anatole, in her eyes, had an even worse reputation than Helene did.

She didn't even bother to be polite about her own entrance at the side door since the man had already captured everyone's attention with his stunning figure.

Natasha was staring with a mouth wide open, and Sonya was just being, well, Sonya. _Thank goodness that girl has some sense, otherwise Natasha might have run off to some handsome man by now._

Before she could say anything, a hand grasped her arm and pulled her down into the seat. The curves of her body and glimmering fabrics made Marya's face flush crimson.

"Sit down, otherwise you'll look just as ridiculous as my dear brother over there," Helene nearly hissed into her ear. This was extremely different from how they'd interacted in the past.

Flustering for a response, Marya helplessly watched Anatole come up to Natasha, grinning and complimenting her perfection at the opera. She was too frozen at the thought of Helene holding onto her arm to react at anything else.

Marya had a hard time believing Helene made her feel like a young girl again, made her feel things she shouldn’t feel.

Helene gazed at Marya, a million emotions flooding her thoughts.

Helene was _touching_ her, looking at her with deep brown eyes.

”Elena? C-could you let go of me?” she squeaked out, sounding incredibly pathetic.

The other woman jumped and let go of her arm, seemingly guilty about it.

They sat in awkward silence, despite the singing echoing around them. 

Marya’s skin was burning where Helene’s hand once was. She half hoped that Helene hadn’t let go.

Despite her attempts to focus on the show, Marya couldn’t help but just stare at Helene. The latter had grown, exuded a commanding air to those surrounding her. Her face appeared more mature, but heavens know what that woman has seen in the last 10 years.

Helene scooted over, her hip bumping in Marya’s. A cold hand reached over and settled onto her lap. Marya said nothing, a burning sensation overwhelming her senses. She didn’t dare say a thing, fearing she would break tense silence.

She visibly snapped awake as the lights flashed on, signaling that the show was over.

_Finally, we can leave and never step into the place ever again._

Marya violently pulled away from Helene, the latter startling with a slightly hurt expression on her face.

“Countess Bezukhova, I must bid you goodbye this evening. Send Pierre my greetings and...have a pleasant dinner,” she said curtly, trying her best to avoid any real conversation.

Helene kept staring at her, her eyes darting back and forth between her and her goddaughters. Marya didn’t meet her gaze, didn’t want to see pained eyes. She turned around, guilt building up when the same hand that rested on her dress gripped her shoulder.

”Why? Do you hate me? Masha, why do you despise me and avoid me like the scum that line the streets? Why do you refuse to tell me what is wrong? Why do you leave me with so many questions? I just...” she trailed off as Marya flinched at every sentence she spoke.

She turned around, carefully lifting Helene’s hand and keeping it linked with hers.

”I-I’m sorry. Be safe.” Marya ran to fetch Sonya and Natasha, ushering them outside, tears threatening to burst from her eyes and not looking back.

Marya didn’t want to set her eyes on her again, but all the same wanted nothing more than to spill terrible things and be comforted by Helene’s words and embrace.

She couldn’t shake the horrible feeling that something would drastically change her and Helene, for the better or the worst.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was obviously longer to make up for my last chapter. Did you enjoy it? Did you hate it?comments if so.
> 
> HAPPY HALLOWEEN IF YOURE READING THIS THE DAY THIS WAS POSTED

**Author's Note:**

> should I continue this or not? let me know


End file.
